Enter the Hero ßâëåíèå ãåðîÿ And so, the stranger pressed a warning finger to his lips and whispered "Shh!" to Ivan. Èòàê, íåèçâåñòíûé ïîãðîçèë Èâàíó ïàëüöåì è ïðîøåïòàë: «Òññ!» Ivan lowered his feet over the side of the bed and stared. Èâàí îïóñòèë íîãè ñ ïîñòåëè è âñìîòðåëñÿ. Peering cautiously into the room from the balcony was a clean-shaven, dark-haired man of about thirty-eight; he had anxious eyes, a sharp nose, and a shock of hair hanging over his forehead. Ñ áàëêîíà îñòîðîæíî çàãëÿäûâàë â êîìíàòó áðèòûé, òåìíîâîëîñûé, ñ îñòðûì íîñîì, âñòðåâîæåííûìè ãëàçàìè è ñî ñâåøèâàþùèìñÿ íà ëîá êëîêîì âîëîñ ÷åëîâåê ïðèìåðíî ëåò òðèäöàòè âîñüìè. After making certain that Ivan was alone, the mysterious visitor listened intenuy, then mustered his courage and entered the room. Óáåäèâøèñü â òîì, ÷òî Èâàí îäèí, è ïðèñëóøàâøèñü, òàèíñòâåííûé ïîñåòèòåëü îñìåëåë è âîøåë â êîìíàòó. Ivan noticed that he was wearing hospital clothes: underwear, slippers on bare feet, and a dark brown robe thrown over his shoulders. Òóò óâèäåë Èâàí, ÷òî ïðèøåäøèé îäåò â áîëüíè÷íîå. Íà íåì áûëî áåëüå, òóôëè íà áîñó íîãó, íà ïëå÷è íàáðîøåí áóðûé õàëàò. The newcomer winked at Ivan, stuck a bunch of keys in his pocket and asked in a whisper, "May I sit down?" Ïðèøåäøèé ïîäìèãíóë Èâàíó, ñïðÿòàë â êàðìàí ñâÿçêó êëþ÷åé, øåïîòîì îñâåäîìèëñÿ: «Ìîæíî ïðèñåñòü?» When he received a nod of assent, he settled into the armchair. – è, ïîëó÷èâ óòâåðäèòåëüíûé êèâîê, ïîìåñòèëñÿ â êðåñëå. "How did you get in here?" said Ivan in a whisper, obeying his guest's warning gesture. "Aren't the window grilles locked?" – Êàê æå âû ñþäà ïîïàëè? – ïîâèíóÿñü ñóõîìó ãðîçÿùåìó ïàëüöó, øåïîòîì ñïðîñèë Èâàí, – âåäü áàëêîííûå-òî ðåøåòêè íà çàìêàõ? "They are locked," confirmed the guest, "but Praskovya Fyodorovna is an extremely nice, if, alas, absentminded person. – Ðåøåòêè-òî íà çàìêàõ, – ïîäòâåðäèë ãîñòü, – íî Ïðàñêîâüÿ Ôåäîðîâíà – ìèëåéøèé, íî, óâû, ðàññåÿííûé ÷åëîâåê. I pinched her keys a month ago, which allows me to go out onto the balcony ß ñòàùèë ó íåå ìåñÿö òîìó íàçàä ñâÿçêó êëþ÷åé è, òàêèì îáðàçîì, ïîëó÷èë âîçìîæíîñòü âûõîäèòü íà îáùèé áàëêîí, that encircles the entire floor and thus visit a neighbor on occasion." à îí òÿíåòñÿ âîêðóã âñåãî ýòàæà, è, òàêèì îáðàçîì, èíîãäà íàâåñòèòü ñîñåäà. "But if you can go out onto the balcony, you can get out of here. Or is it too high up?" queried Ivan. – Ðàç âû ìîæåòå âûõîäèòü íà áàëêîí, òî âû ìîæåòå óäðàòü. Èëè âûñîêî? – çàèíòåðåñîâàëñÿ Èâàí. "No," was the guest's firm reply. "It's not because it's too high that I can't get out, but because there's nowhere for me to get out to." – Íåò, – òâåðäî îòâåòèë ãîñòü, – ÿ íå ìîãó óäðàòü îòñþäà íå ïîòîìó, ÷òî âûñîêî, à ïîòîìó, ÷òî ìíå óäèðàòü íåêóäà. After a pause he added, "So, we're stuck sitting here?" – È ïîñëå ïàóçû îí äîáàâèë: – Èòàê, ñèäèì? "Yes, stuck," replied Ivan, gazing into the newcomer's anxious-looking brown eyes. – Ñèäèì, – îòâåòèë Èâàí, âãëÿäûâàÿñü â êàðèå è î÷åíü áåñïîêîéíûå ãëàçà ïðèøåëüöà. "Yes..."—here the guest suddenly became agitated. "I hope you're not violent, are you? – Äà... – òóò ãîñòü âäðóã âñòðåâîæèëñÿ, – íî âû, íàäåþñü, íå áóéíûé? Because, you see, I can't tolerate noise, rows, violence, or anything of that sort. À òî ÿ, çíàåòå ëè, íå âûíîøó øóìà, âîçíè, íàñèëèé è âñÿêèõ âåùåé â ýòîì ðîäå. And I especially can't stand people screaming, whether in suffering, rage, or for any other reason.  îñîáåííîñòè íåíàâèñòåí ìíå ëþäñêîé êðèê, áóäü òî êðèê ñòðàäàíèÿ, ÿðîñòè èëè èíîé êàêîé-íèáóäü êðèê. Reassure me, tell me—you're not violent, are you?" Óñïîêîéòå ìåíÿ, ñêàæèòå, âû íå áóéíûé? "Yesterday in a restaurant I smashed some guy in the puss," confessed the transformed poet manfully. – Â÷åðà â ðåñòîðàíå ÿ îäíîìó òèïó ïî ìîðäå çàñâåòèë, – ìóæåñòâåííî ïðèçíàëñÿ ïðåîáðàæåííûé ïîýò. "The reason?" the guest asked sternly. "None really, I admit," answered Ivan, becoming embarrassed. – Îñíîâàíèå? – ñòðîãî ñïðîñèë ãîñòü. – Äà, ïðèçíàòüñÿ, áåç îñíîâàíèÿ, – ñêîíôóçèâøèñü, îòâåòèë Èâàí. "Disgraceful," the guest scolded and added, "And besides, why do you say things like 'smash some guy in the puss'? – Áåçîáðàçèå, – îñóäèë ãîñòü Èâàíà è äîáàâèë: – À êðîìå òîãî, ÷òî ýòî âû òàê âûðàæàåòàñü: ïî ìîðäå çàñâåòèë? After all, nobody knows exactly what it is that a man has, a face or a puss. Âåäü íåèçâåñòíî, ÷òî èìåííî èìååòñÿ ó ÷åëîâåêà, ìîðäà èëè ëèöî. Most likely, it's still a face. So, when it comes to fists... No, you should stop doing that sort of thing once and for all." È, ïîæàëóé, âåäü âñå-òàêè ëèöî. Òàê ÷òî, çíàåòå ëè, êóëàêàìè... Íåò, óæ ýòî âû îñòàâüòå, è íàâñåãäà. After giving Ivan this lecture, the guest inquired, "Your profession?" Îò÷èòàâ òàêèì îáðàçîì Èâàíà, ãîñòü îñâåäîìèëñÿ: – Ïðîôåññèÿ? "Poet," Ivan acknowledged somewhat unwillingly. The newcomer became distressed. – Ïîýò, – ïî÷åìó-òî íåîõîòíî ïðèçíàëñÿ Èâàí. Ïðèøåäøèé îãîð÷èëñÿ. "Oh, how unlucky I am!" he exclaimed, but then caught himself, apologized, and asked, "And what is your name?" – Îõ, êàê ìíå íå âåçåò! – âîñêëèêíóë îí, íî òóò æå ñïîõâàòèëñÿ, èçâèíèëñÿ è ñïðîñèë: – À êàê âàøà ôàìèëèÿ? "Bezdomny." "Uh-oh," said the guest with a frown. "What's the matter, don't you like my poetry?" asked Ivan with curiosity. – Áåçäîìíûé. – Ýõ, ýõ... – ñêàçàë ãîñòü, ìîðùàñü. – À âàì, ÷òî æå, ìîè ñòèõè íå íðàâÿòñÿ? – ñ ëþáîïûòñòâîì ñïðîñèë Èâàí. "Emphatically not." "And what have you read?" "I haven't read any of your poetry!" retorted the visitor irritably. – Óæàñíî íå íðàâÿòñÿ. – À âû êàêèå ÷èòàëè? – Íèêàêèõ ÿ âàøèõ ñòèõîâ íå ÷èòàë! – íåðâíî âîñêëèêíóë ïîñåòèòåëü. "Then how can you tell?" "Well," replied the guest, "it's not as if I haven't read other things like it, now is it? – À êàê æå âû ãîâîðèòå? – Íó, ÷òî æ òóò òàêîãî, – îòâåòèë ãîñòü, – êàê áóäòî ÿ äðóãèõ íå ÷èòàë? But maybe, by some miracle, yours is different? All right, I'm ready to take it on faith. Tell me yourself, are your poems any good?" Âïðî÷åì... ðàçâå ÷òî ÷óäî? Õîðîøî, ÿ ãîòîâ ïðèíÿòü íà âåðó. Õîðîøè âàøè ñòèõè, ñêàæèòå ñàìè? "Horrible!" Ivan blurted out boldly and frankly. "Don't write any more!" the newcomer implored. – ×óäîâèùíû! – âäðóã ñìåëî è îòêðîâåííî ïðîèçíåñ Èâàí. – Íå ïèøèòå áîëüøå! – ïîïðîñèë ïðèøåäøèé óìîëÿþùå. "I promise you, I swear I won't!" was Ivan's solemn reply. – Îáåùàþ è êëÿíóñü! – òîðæåñòâåííî ïðîèçíåñ Èâàí. They sealed the vow with a handshake, and then the sounds of soft footsteps and voices were heard from the corridor. Êëÿòâó ñêðåïèëè ðóêîïîæàòèåì, è òóò èç êîðèäîðà äîíåñëèñü ìÿãêèå øàãè è ãîëîñà. "Shh," whispered the guest, jumping out onto the balcony and closing the grille behind him. – Òññ, – øåïíóë ãîñòü è, âûñêî÷èâ íà áàëêîí, çàêðûë çà ñîáîþ ðåøåòêó. Praskovya Fyodorovna looked in and asked how Ivan was feeling and whether he wanted to sleep in the dark or with a light. Çàãëÿíóëà Ïðàñêîâüÿ Ôåäîðîâíà, ñïðîñèëà, êàê Èâàí ñåáÿ ÷óâñòâóåò è æåëàåò ëè îí ñïàòü â òåìíîòå èëè ñî ñâåòîì. Ivan asked her to leave the light on, and Praskovya Fyodorovna exited after wishing the patient good night. Èâàí ïîïðîñèë ñâåò îñòàâèòü, è Ïðàñêîâüÿ Ôåäîðîâíà óäàëèëàñü, ïîæåëàâ áîëüíîìó ñïîêîéíîé íî÷è. And when everything had quieted down, the guest came back again. È êîãäà âñå ñòèõëî, âíîâü âåðíóëñÿ ãîñòü. He told Ivan in a whisper that a new patient had just been brought into Room 119, a fat fellow with a purple face Îí øåïîòîì ñîîáùèë Èâàíó, ÷òî â 119-þ êîìíàòó ïðèâåçëè íîâåíüêîãî, êàêîãî-òî òîëñòÿêà ñ áàãðîâîé ôèçèîíîìèåé, who kept muttering something about foreign currency in the ventilator shaft, âñå âðåìÿ áîðìî÷óùåãî ÷òî-òî ïðî êàêóþ-òî âàëþòó â âåíòèëÿöèè and who swore that evil powers had settled into his building on Sadovaya Street. è êëÿíóùåãîñÿ, ÷òî ó íèõ íà Ñàäîâîé ïîñåëèëàñü íå÷èñòàÿ ñèëà. "He's cursing out Pushkin for all he's worth and shouting, 'Kurolesov, encore, encore!'" said the guest, twitching anxiously. – Ïóøêèíà ðóãàåò íà ÷åì ñâåò ñòîèò è âñå âðåìÿ êðè÷èò: «Êóðîëåñîâ, áèñ, áèñ!» – ãîâîðèë ãîñòü, òðåâîæíî äåðãàÿñü. When he calmed down, he took a seat and said, "But, never mind about him," Óñïîêîèâøèñü, îí ñåë, ñêàçàë: – À âïðî÷åì, áîã ñ íèì, and continued his conversation with Ivan, "So how did you end up here?" – è ïðîäîëæèë áåñåäó ñ Èâàíîì: – Òàê èç-çà ÷åãî æå âû ïîïàëè ñþäà? "Because of Pontius Pilate," Ivan replied, looking sullenly down at the floor. – Èç-çà Ïîíòèÿ Ïèëàòà, – õìóðî ãëÿíóâ â ïîë, îòâåòèë Èâàí. "What?!" shouted the guest, abandoning caution, and then clamping his hand over his mouth. – Êàê? – çàáûâ îñòîðîæíîñòü, êðèêíóë ãîñòü è ñàì ñåáå çàæàë ðîò ðóêîé, "A striking coincidence! I beg you, I beg you, tell me all about it!" – ïîòðÿñàþùåå ñîâïàäåíèå! Óìîëÿþ, óìîëÿþ, ðàññêàæèòå! Feeling for some reason that he could trust the stranger, Ïî÷åìó-òî èñïûòûâàÿ äîâåðèå ê íåèçâåñòíîìó, Ivan began telling him about yesterday's happenings at Patriarch's Ponds, starting out haltingly and timidly, but then growing bolder as he went along. Èâàí, ïåðâîíà÷àëüíî çàïèíàÿñü è ðîáåÿ, à ïîòîì îñìåëåâ, íà÷àë ðàññêàçûâàòü â÷åðàøíþþ èñòîðèþ íà Ïàòðèàðøèõ ïðóäàõ. And indeed, Ivan Nikolayevich found a sympathetic listener in this mysterious key thief! Äà, áëàãîäàðíîãî ñëóøàòåëÿ ïîëó÷èë Èâàí Íèêîëàåâè÷ â ëèöå òàèíñòâåííîãî ïîõèòèòåëÿ êëþ÷åé! The guest did not treat Ivan as if he were a madman, showed the greatest interest in what he was saying, Ãîñòü íå ðÿäèë Èâàíà â ñóìàñøåäøèå, ïðîÿâèë âåëè÷àéøèé èíòåðåñ ê ðàññêàçûâàåìîìó and became ecstatic as the story progressed. è ïî ìåðå ðàçâèòèÿ ýòîãî ðàññêàçà, íàêîíåö, ïðèøåë â âîñòîðã. He kept interrupting Ivan with exclamations, "Well, well, go on, go on, I beg you! Îí òî è äåëî ïðåðûâàë Èâàíà âîñêëèöàíèÿìè: – Í...
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